


Mirrors

by missigma



Series: Mobscast [6]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: M/M, Mobscast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 05:18:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4167423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missigma/pseuds/missigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rythian and Lalna's relationship has never been an easy one. In the underworld of their city, they find themselves pitted against each other both by their own actions and by machinations beyond their reach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> You will remember the prologue as a piece entitled "Beginnings" which detailed how Lalna and Rythian met in Mobscast universe. I've edited this to work better with a multi-chapter fic, and taken down the older version.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rythian and Lalna meet for the first time under terrible circumstances, and slowly learn to tolerate each other, before growing closer.

The auto shop was dark when Lalna slipped inside with Xephos close behind him. Both drew their pistols as they entered, though they had planned this visit to be little more than a warning.

“Looks like you were right,” Xephos sighed, lowering his weapon. “They’re out tonight.” The building was silent and empty, bearing no sign of the gang they had tracked there.

“Told you,” Lalna replied impudently. Holstering his pistol, he pulled the cord to turn on lamp that hung from the ceiling, “I’ll check the place before we get started.” Lalna started down the hallway, and immediately ducked into the cluttered front office. The safe underneath the desk immediately caught his attention, and with a smile, he knelt to examine it.

“Lalna!” Xephos shouted from a few rooms away, “I need you to be a doctor.” Lalna cringed, already wondering what would be expected of him this time.

“Xephos,” Lalna protested from the hallway, though he was already sprinting. “You know I’m not.”

“I don’t fucking care,” Xephos’ voice rose in pitch. “You went through university. Get in here!”

Lalna paused in the doorway of the dimly-lit room, quickly taking in the sight before him. Xephos was kneeling beside a slim man who lay on his side, curled in on himself. As Lalna approached, he saw the blood, both dried and drying, on the man’s clothing and on the floor.

“Here,” Lalna said as he knelt beside the man, and soon enough bleary eyes looked back at him. “Can you tell me where you’re hurt?” Already, he could see the man had his face buried in the crook of his elbow, his own blood seeping into his sleeve. Reluctantly, the man allowed Lalna to lift his arm away from his face to examine what lay beneath.

Xephos flinched at the sight and immediately turned away. The man noticed and tried to fold in on himself again, a soft whimper of distress escaping him.

“No,” Lalna caught his wrists, keeping him from hiding his wounds again. He leaned in, quickly examining the damage that had been done to the man’s mouth. Long, deep gashes extended from his cheeks to his jaw, cutting jagged paths through his lips. With a touch of his hand, Lalna probed at the man’s neck, but for all the blood that coated his skin, the wounds had stopped short of his throat.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Lalna asked, though he was already checking the rest of his body. The man slowly shook his head. “Alright,” Lalna murmured to himself, casting around for a moment. He drew his pocket knife, tugged his shirt untucked and cut a section from his undershirt.

“Here,” he said, folding the fabric over a few times and pressing it to the wounds. After a moment’s hesitation, the man took hold of the rag, pressing it firmly against his mouth.

“Do you think you can walk?”

The man nodded slightly and allowed Lalna to grasp him underneath his arms. Carefully, Lalna pulled him to his feet. Supporting him as best he could, Lalna started towards the door. “Lalna,” Xephos called after him, hurrying behind. “What can I do? Where are you going?”

“I’m going to drive him back to my flat,” Lalna answered without turning to look at him. He plunged back into the chill of the late night and slipped down the alleyway where he had left his car. Fumbling awkwardly with the handle of the door, he finally opened it. “Can you sit with him in the back?”

Xephos pressed his lips together as he looked at the man, and seemed about to protest. Instead, he stretched out to fold the front seat forwards and after stepping up onto the running board, he ducked inside. He held his arms out to take the injured man, who settled against him slowly, head pillowed on his thigh.

“It’ll be fine,” Lalna told them, speaking as much to Xephos as to his patient. Still, as he drove away, he was certain he saw terrible worry spread across Xephos’ features as he watched him in the rear-view mirror.

“Any idea who he is before I decide to keep him?” Lalna asked, hoping to distract Xephos from his worries. He heard him shift to search through the man’s pockets.

“He has a badge on him,” came the eventual answer.

“Is he a cop?” Lalna continued, and waited as Xephos inspected the badge.

“A detective according to his card.” Xephos answered. “His name is Rythian.”

Lalna was silent for a moment before pressing him further. “Is there a bigger plan here? D’you think I’m going to charm him into thinking we’re good people?”

He watched in the mirror as Xephos’ expression quickly became irritated. “Honestly, Lalna, I just want you to patch him up,” he replied, clearly annoyed. “If you want to try to make friends, that’s up to you. Alright?”

“Fine,” Lalna bit out the word, though he was still suspicious. When he again looked in the mirror, Xephos’ head was bowed as he watched the man--Rythian, he quickly corrected himself.

Over the noise of the engine, Lalna thought he heard Rythian speak, his voice a soft mumble through the fabric held to his wounds. Behind him, he heard Xephos answer simply, “Yes, friend," in a gentle tone that Lalna had never heard before.

It was Xephos who slowly guided Rythian up the stairs to Lalna’s flat. Gently, he helped him onto the large wooden table that stood in the center of the kitchen. Lalna hurriedly assembled all the tools he would need, setting out a line of supplies along the edge of the counter.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Xephos asked, hovering a little behind Lalna, his eyes fixed on Rythian.

Setting a bottle of antiseptic down, Lalna turned to survey his boss. Xephos looked frazzled, his bangs had slid down to hang in front of one eye and his clothing was rumpled and spotted with blood. “Get yourself a drink,” Lalna directed him, before returning to his patient.

It was well past four in the morning before Lalna took a step back from Rythian, the wounds around his mouth now clean and stitched closed. He had checked through all the man’s other injuries again, noting the wide bruises forming on his chest and the scrapes and slender bands of purple around his wrists. Lalna had long been used to being part of the action, part of the mob itself. Seeing the aftermath of it all marked out plainly on the body of this man gave clarity to the effects of organizations like his own that Lalna most often preferred to ignore.

Xephos seemed to be much more deeply affected by the sight. He was certainly no less tense for the amount of gin he had had. He spoke as soon as Lalna took a few steps back from the kitchen table. “I want him to stay with you until I can find them. And, if you can, ask him why they did all of that.”

“You can sleep on the couch,” Lalna offered Xephos as he helped Rythian up, one arm wrapped around him. He handed Rythian a glass of water, which the man took gratefully though he struggled to drink it with his lips still numb from the anesthetic.

“Sure,” Xephos muttered, already sinking farther into the cushions as Lalna helped Rythian into his bedroom.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Lalna woke even later than usual. He found his guest had already risen, and was seated at the table where Lalna had tended to him last night. “Morning,” Lalna mumbled as he set a small glass bottle full of pills in front of him. “You can take two of these.”

He made for the stove next to heat water for his coffee, returning a moment later with a glass of water for Rythian. The couch was empty; Xephos must have left before he had woken up.

“You’re Lalna?” Rythian asked quietly, and it occurred to Lalna how little he had heard the man speak. He had kept silent beyond a few whispers to Xephos as he had held him in the back seat, and more whimpers when Lalna had cared for him later.

“Yeah,” Lalna replied, still rubbing at his eyes. “I’m Lalna.” Rythian slumped back in his chair, shaking a pair of pills out of the bottle. Gingerly, he pushed the pills between his lips and, after a few seconds of maneuvering, poured a little water into his mouth.

“Do you know who I am?” Lalna prompted him after a moment.

“I’ve heard of you,” Rythian answered vaguely. “And Xephos.”

“Well, good. Then I only have to explain a few things.” Lalna settled into the chair across from him. “Firstly, I want you to stay with me for a little while. I can keep an eye on your injuries, and I can also protect you.”

“I don’t need protection,” Rythian muttered, turning his glass in his hands.

Barely silencing a sarcastic reply, Lalna continued as if he had not heard him. “Xephos is taking care of the gang that did this. We were already starting to shut down their operation, but now he’s going to make sure they leave the city.”

“Is he going to kill them?”

Lalna paused, unsure how to reply. “Probably,” was the answer that he gave, though he had no doubt that Xephos would give that order.

“I’ll stay,” Rythian decided though he seemed reluctant to agree. Carefully, he rose from his chair. “I’m going to lie down,” he mumbled and started slowly for the bedroom.

Turning his head, Lalna watched him leave the room, suddenly aware of how many things he had just given his patient to think about. “Would you like food?”

Rythian paused in the doorway to think before he eventually replied, “Yes.”

The first days of Rythian’s stay he remained still, often dozing in the bed that Lalna shared with him. He was patient as Lalna checked his wounds. He took an interest in the radio, sitting quietly in the closest armchair as he listened faithfully every evening.

It was not until Rythian began to grow restless that Lalna was able to get a real grasp of his personality. More than a week into his stay, he dragged himself out his favorite chair and slipped into the next room to run a bath. Soon he re-emerged, now wearing only his underdrawers.

Glancing up from the kitchen table, Lalna caught sight of Rythian’s own clothes as well as the ones that he had loaned him hanging up, damp and newly clean. “I could’ve taken your things to the laundromat,” he told him, already turning back to the insides of a pocket watch that were laid out in front of him.

Rythian ignored him, and pulled out a chair to sit opposite of him. “Can you call Xephos?” he asked.

Pausing in his work, Lalna raised his eyebrows. “I could,” he shrugged. “I’m not sure why I would though,” he added, grabbing the magnifying glass from the table.

“I’d like to talk to him,” Rythian told him firmly, refusing to elaborate.

“Tell me why, and then I’ll call,” Lalna offered, again absorbed in the delicate machinery.

Sighing, Rythian slouched in his chair. Eventually, he answered him, “I want to know what he wants out of me for doing this.”

“Why do you think he wants anything?” Lalna frowned.

“I’m pretty sure that the head of the city’s mob didn’t get there by doing favors for free.”

Again, Lalna looked up to meet Rythian’s gaze. “You’re an exception,” he assured him. “He’d probably even give you a job if you asked.”

Rythian furrowed his brow. “And you?” he prompted suspiciously.

“No,” Lalna told him. “I don’t think you owe me.”

Rythian ducked his head, but now said nothing. Instead, he scratched nervously at a spot just below one line of stitches. “Would you like me to take those out?” Lalna offered.

“Are they ready?” Rythian put his fingers carefully to his lips.

“It’s been long enough,” Lalna replied, standing to go to the sink. As soon as his hands were clean, he retrieved a pair of suture scissors and tweezers from a case inside his study.

“Will it hurt?” Rythian murmured anxiously, turning in his seat to face Lalna as he re-emerged from the room.

“Shouldn’t,” Lalna answered briefly, putting a hand to Rythian’s cheek to encourage him to stay still. Rythian fidgeted as the first stitch was drawn from his flesh. “You alright?” Lalna asked when the fiber was free from his skin.

“Yeah, that was just-” Rythian shook his head slightly before settling on “strange.” He lapsed into silence and remained patiently still for the rest of the time Lalna spent removing the sutures.

“Are you always playing doctor for Xephos?” Rythian wondered as Lalna spread ointment on the thin wounds.

“No,” Lalna snorted. “Usually, I just do first aid if someone needs it. I’ve never had anyone stay with me before.”

“Thank you,” Rythian told him, and Lalna paused to try to gauge his sincerity.

“Welcome,” Lalna soon smiled, though he was still a bit surprised by Rythian’s sudden politeness.

A few minutes later, he found Rythian in front of the bathroom mirror, surveying his injuries critically. Lalna stepped inside and stood beside him, looking into the mirror.

In the reflection, Rythian’s eyes turned to meet his. Lalna took the opportunity to study his features as he had not had excuse to do before. Rythian’s eyes were set deep under thick, dark brows. His still-damp hair was pushed up off his forehead, though a few light blond curls at his left temple had fallen out of their arranged place among his mostly darker brown hair.

Then there was his mouth, the feature he had been studying in the mirror. His lips were divided by three perpendicular gashes, and outside of the border of his mouth more marks had been carved into his cheeks. The pale pink of the healing wounds stood out against his skin, but hardly surprised Lalna, who had never known him without them. He remained silent, well aware of his own knack for saying the wrong thing.

“Do you want to know what happened?” Rythian gestured towards his face.

“Yes,” Lalna replied, though truthfully he was far more interested in why.

Fingers idly running along the edge of the porcelain sink, Rythian began his tale, rattling through the list of events quickly. “It wasn’t the first time I’d run into them. It started a month ago, when a man came up to me who called himself Grey. He wanted me to inform for his gang. I said no, but he said he’d let me think about it anyways. The week after, he told me they’d burn down the whole building I lived in. And the week after that, a few more of them jumped me.

“I didn’t see them for a while afterwards, and I thought they were trying their luck with someone else in the department. Then they broke down the door of my apartment and took me back to the auto shop that they were camped out at. They fought a bit over what they were going to do with me, but one of them convinced the rest that they needed to make an example of me if they were ever going to get any respect. He was the one who did it,” Rythian shrugged as if the story meant little to him, though Lalna caught him again eyeing his wounded mouth in the mirror.

Shaking his head, Rythian added: “I still don’t understand why they chose me. I didn’t need the money, and I’d only just been promoted to detective. I don’t have the connections the rest of the detectives have in the city.”

“Everyone who’s been there longer has either sold out already or would make too much trouble. There aren’t many good targets,” Lalna told him, though he doubted Rythian had even wanted an answer.

Rythian gazed down into the sink as he pieced his thoughts together. He glanced back into the mirror once more, before turning to face Lalna. “So, now you have your story to tell Xephos,” he sighed bitterly. Lalna wrinkled his brow, wondering exactly what he had done as Rythian pushed past him.

Seizing him by his elbow, Lalna yanked Rythian back and pinned him against the sink with his body. As he braced himself with his hands gripping the sink on either side of Rythian’s hips, he leaned close. Long-used to his height lending him an intimidating edge, he found himself tilting his head up to meet Rythian’s cold gaze.

“Forget Xephos,” Lalna raised his voice, nose inches from Rythian’s face. “If I didn’t want you here, then I would have taken you home a week ago.”

Rythian did not retreat. Instead he grasped at Lalna’s wrists with surprising strength. “What are you then, if you’re not his stooge? A good Samaritan?” His tone was sarcastic, and his eyes had turned icy. “You don’t seem like the type.”

Lalna hesitated, uncertain what exactly Rythian meant. He wondered if Rythian had seen his eyes wander, if he was calling his bluff. Slowly he began to realize the position he held Rythian in, their hips pressed together and legs tangled. In spite of himself, Lalna wondered how Rythian might react if his hands were to stray.

With sudden force, Rythian shoved him back and stormed out of the room. Sighing heavily, Lalna pressed his flushed forehead against the cool surface of the mirror.

 

* * *

 

Four more days passed by, Rythian growing a little more restless with each one. Quite often they spent time sniping at each other from across the room, though sometimes, when the conversation was better, Lalna saw Rythian’s lips twitch upwards as if he was about to smile. Still, Lalna was hardly surprised when Rythian announced one morning that he would leave by afternoon, in spite of the fact that Xephos had had little success in his manhunt.

Lalna reasoned then, in the most irrational and impulsive section of his head, that if Rythian was going to leave, he might as well make sure he hated him. He went all out, shoving the man into his favorite armchair and climbing clumsily on top of him. “Shit!” Rythian cried as he crashed against the thinly upholstered arm of the chair, before seizing two handfuls of Lalna’s shirt in an attempt to shove him away.

Grabbing at Rythian’s hair, Lalna held him still while he bowed his head to barely brush their lips together. Lalna pulled back after a brief moment, settling back on Rythian’s knees. He saw the fist angled for his cheek, but did not move to dodge it. Chuckling, he simply righted himself again and began to sheepishly withdraw, only to have Rythian seize hold of his jaw, dragging him back in for a proper kiss.

Though the kiss hurt him, Rythian kept the contact as long as he could bear it. He was glad to finally have some outlet for the ever-present tension that had plagued the later days of his stay here. Rythian slid his tongue into Lalna’s mouth to find his, before finally pulling back when the pain became too much for him.

As Rythian gingerly put his fingers to his lips, seemingly checking for some new injury, Lalna watched him carefully. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes,” Rythian replied, taking his hand away from his mouth. “Sorry, I just-” he trailed off as Lalna dipped his head back in to kiss the juncture of his jaw and his neck. Tilting his head back, Rythian allowed Lalna’s lips to travel downwards to the base of his throat. There, Lalna pulled at the neck of the undershirt that Rythian wore, stretching the fabric so that he could mouth at Rythian’s collarbones.

Rythian’s hands hesitantly slid up to work at the buttons Lalna’s white shirt. Smiling slightly, Lalna allowed him to pull the garment away, and then his undershirt as well. He did the same for Rythian, quickly helping him out of his thin undershirt.

Settling back in the chair, Rythian put his hand to Lalna’s side. Lalna quickly leaned in again, mouth now pressing at the base of Rythian’s neck. Rythian lifted his chin, a soft, contented hum sounding in his throat as Lalna sucked at a sensitive patch of skin. His fingers slid along the back of Lalna’s shoulders to rub encouragingly at his muscles.

Eager to push him farther, Lalna reached down to Rythian’s stomach, skimming his fingers along the skin just above the waist of his trousers. Rythian inhaled quickly at his first touch and nervously glanced up at him when his fingers rested on his fly. Lalna grasped at Rythian’s cock through the fabric, drawing a soft gasp from him that was soon followed by an embarrassed half-smile.

Adding another kiss to Rythian’s throat, Lalna slid off the chair to kneel. He unbuttoned the front of Rythian’s trousers and his underdrawers before pulling both down well past his knees. Rythian lifted himself up from the chair to aid in their removal, before leaning back in the chair again

His muscles tensed as Lalna put his mouth to Rythian’s knee and moved inwards, trailing kisses along the inside of his thigh. Lalna paused a few inches from Rythian’s cock to look up at him. He found Rythian’s eyes fixed on him, but lingered longer, wetting his lips as he waited for the man to fidget.

“Lalna,” Rythian lowered his voice to a growl. “Come on.”

“Mm?” Lalna hummed as if he had not heard him. He reached out to drag his fingertips along Rythian’s hardening length and for a few seconds the man was silent, his eyes closing briefly as Lalna teased him. Then Lalna pulled back again to line Rythian’s opposite thigh with kisses.

Rythian opened his mouth, about to complain. He shut it again when Lalna’s hand closed around his cock. His eyes still fixed on Lalna, Rythian leaned back in the armchair to watch. He whimpered quietly as Lalna continued to pump his cock.

Wanting to hear more from Rythian, Lalna leaned in, his pink lips parting as he mouthed gently at the head of Rythian’s cock. Rythian groaned, and stretched his arms down so that he could weave his fingers through Lalna’s hair. Lalna took him steadily deeper, hand still stroking near the base of his shaft.

“Jesus Christ,” Rythian whimpered when Lalna took him as far as he could. Lalna would have smirked if he could, but settled for bobbing slowly on his cock, his lips wrapped tightly around him. He was relieved that Rythian did not pull at his hair. Instead, the man slowly ran his fingers along Lalna’s scalp, a sensation that Lalna found soothing.

Lalna found himself unable to ignore his own body as he gave Rythian head. He squeezed at his cock through his trousers, and moaned softly at the very little relief that provided.

“Lalna, I-” Rythian warned, hips pressing up against Lalna’s palms. “Fuck,” he finally gasped, voice nearly breaking. A brief moment later, Lalna pulled off of him, come still in his mouth. He turned and spat on the floor, looking back just in time to see him cringe.

Wiping his mouth on his arm, Lalna sighed as Rythian stood, “You’re going to get upset about that? Really?”

Reaching down to Lalna, Rythian took hold of his arms and dragged him to his feet. Lalna grinned as Rythian wrestled with the buttons on his fly, and happily sprawled across the chair, clothes now around his ankles, when Rythian pushed him down.

Kicking off his underdrawers, Rythian quickly joined him in the armchair. He straddled Lalna’s lap and settled back on the man’s knees to look him over. Lalna shivered as his fingers carefully travelled up the insides of his thighs, making him squirm. He sighed, relieved, as Rythian took his cock in his hand and began to stroke him.

“I really should just tease you,” Rythian murmured with a wicked undertone. “Especially with that show you gave me earlier,” and as he said that his pace slackened, so that he was now jerking Lalna off much more slowly than he would have liked.

“Do you want me to beg?” Lalna asked, bemused smile returning to his lips even as he thrust his hips needily up against Rythian to try to find more friction. “Is that it?”

“I think I’d like that,” Rythian replied, still only moving slowly.

“Well,” Lalna shrugged. “Please fucking get me off.”

Laughing softly, Rythian withdrew his hand. He leaned in to rest against Lalna’s chest, while both his hands glided down to seize Lalna’s wrists. For a moment Lalna remained still, hoping that Rythian would tire of this first. Rythian laid his head on his shoulder, his face turned towards him. His breath blew gently on the side of Lalna’s neck.

It was only a minute before Lalna stirred. “Rythian,” he whined, hips again pushing up against him. Though he found more contact this time, it still was not anywhere near enough.

“Mm?” was Rythian’s only reply, mocking the way Lalna had ignored him before.

“Please,” Lalna repeated, now more serious. “Rythian, please,” he pleaded when Rythian hesitated. A hint of a smile pulled at Rythian’s lips as he wedged his hand between them. Lalna gasped as Rythian began to stroke him quickly and rocked his hips slowly into Rythian’s palm.

Rythian’s left hand roamed across the rest of Lalna’s body, before finally slipping upwards to cup his chin. He held Lalna like that as he came, moaning loudly. Breathing hard, Lalna wrapped his arms around Rythian to keep him close.

“Do you want to stay the night?” Lalna asked impulsively. “Just for the night,” he assured Rythian when he hesitated.

“Yes,” came the reply, and again Lalna smiled, before pressing a kiss to Rythian’s cheek.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After prolonging his stay with Lalna as long as he can, Rythian returns to his apartment and to his friends.

Easing the door open to his flat, Rythian found his entryway in complete disorder, much the same as he had last seen it. The door would not close completely behind him, still slightly off its hinges even though it had obviously been repaired since it had been bashed in during his abduction.

As he stepped inside, glass crunched underneath the sole of his shoe. The lamp he had seized in his desperation to try to defend himself lay on the floor, the crushed tinted glass of its shade scattered around it. A few paces away stood the spindly wooden chair he had jammed under the door handle, the back cracked and splintered.

Inhaling deeply, Rythian closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the wall. In the dim hallway, the memories seeped back to him, darkness only making them more vivid. Again, he felt the hands of the men who had taken him clutch at his shirt and close around his arms. Though he had fought with them, he had only found himself cast to the ground where they could better force him into submission.

A knock sounded at his door, startling him out of the memory. Rythian jumped, his heart rapidly rising to his throat. He spun around to eye the narrow slit of light from the outside hallway. He had been disarmed in that earlier struggle, and had not yet recovered his revolver. Panicked, Rythian simply stared at the unstable door, terrifyingly aware that he was defenseless.

Another rap sounded on his door, this time followed by a rasping voice. “Rythian?”

Sighing, Rythian tried to force himself to calm down, though he was only slightly less anxious to face the woman he now knew was outside his door. Reluctantly, he dragged down the kerchief he had worn over his mouth to hide his wounds from passers-by.

Pausing a second more, he finally spoke, “Come in.”

The door slowly opened, scraping slightly against the floor. Rythian lowered his eyes as the light from the hallway lit up his figure, knowing well what scars would be revealed. “Rythian?” she asked, taking a few steps forwards, until she reached the glass on the floor.

Taking another steadying breath, Rythian raised his head, bracing himself for her reaction. He felt light fall across his features as he met her gaze and waited for her expression to change. He expected her to recoil in horror, but instead she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him against her chest.

“Missed you, Zoeya,” he whispered, turning towards her ear.

“Missed you too,” she replied, touching her forehead to his shoulder. Looking at the broken glass around them, she again looked up at him. “Do you want to sit down in my apartment?”

“Yeah,” Rythian hastily nodded, and followed her down the hallway when she drew away from him.

“I have a letter for you,” Zoeya told him as she unlocked the door. Rythian gladly followed her into the familiarly bright room, settling in the sage green loveseat as she handed him a small envelope. The letter had clearly been hand-delivered to their building. It bore no address, simply his name inked in flowing letters.

“Sorry, but I need to call Teep,” Zoeya hurriedly excused herself. Rythian watched her return to the entryway, before turning his attention back to the letter.

Frowning, Rythian tore open the envelope. He slid a thin square of paper out to read: “Paid your rent. Call Lalna if you need anything.” The letter was signed “Xephos,” the signature a series of elaborate loops. Rythian balled the letter in his fist, adding another item to the list of things he was indebted to the man for. He had hoped that he would not again be tempted to contact Lalna.

In the entryway, he could hear Zoeya speaking to Teep. “Yes, he’s here,” she told him. Then she continued, “Um, ah, alright. I’ll see you then.”

“Is Teep coming?” Rythian asked when she re-entered the sitting room.

“I think so,” Zoeya pressed her lips together nervously. “I hope that’s alright, but I don’t think I could talk him out of it,” she admitted as she seated herself in a nearby armchair.

“It’ll be alright,” Rythian tried to reassure her, though he was uncertain if he wanted to see someone else at this moment. They lapsed into silence, which only grew more uncomfortable as the minutes wore on.

“That’s a nice suit,” Zoeya volunteered timidly.

“Thanks,” Rythian answered wryly. The clothes were from Xephos as well, who was similar to him in build, but not close enough in height. The fine grey wool trousers and coat were both several inches too short, but a pair of suspenders had been enough to compensate for their small difference in sizes. Rythian was certain he looked ridiculous in his ill-fitting clothes and with the silk kerchief he still had knotted at his throat.

Another long moment passed in silence, though Zoeya seemed about to speak more than once. Every time she would pause, her mouth open, before quickly closing it again as she pushed the wayward strands of her bottle-dyed red hair out of her eyes. Finally, Rythian spoke himself. “What do you want to ask?”

For a minute, Zoeya seemed to weigh keeping her questions to herself. “Were you in the hospital?” she began.

“No,” Rythian frowned at the question. “A man named Lalna took care of me.”

“He works for Xephos,” Zoeya recognized the name immediately, as he had guessed she would. She knew the inner workings of the mob far better than he did, having often traced through their books in her work in the department’s evidence room. “Did they-?” she began.

“No,” Rythian cut in. “They sort of rescued-,” he winced as he chose the word, “me from a gang.”

“Oh,” Zoeya murmured. Pausing a moment more, she asked: “What would you like me to do?”

Caught off-guard, Rythian glanced up at her. “What do you mean?”

“Do you want me to try to help you, or would you want me to leave it alone?” she elaborated. “Rythian, I really want to be there for you, but I don’t know if it’s what you want.”

“Uh,” Rythian froze. “I don’t need help. I’m going to try to go back to work soon. But-,” he frowned, disliking that he had to ask for anything from her. “If it’s alright, I’d like to sleep here tonight,” he nodded at the couch. “My apartment isn’t in the best shape right now.”

“Yeah,” she answered, seemingly genuinely glad for his request. “Of course.”

At a knock on the door, Zoeya rose. “Hello!” Rythian heard her greet Teep, and then heard the man mutter something in reply.

Teep strode into the sitting room to stand a few feet from Rythian. Rythian looked up at him, finding him much the same as when he had last seen him at the police department. Teep wore his usual khaki, which resembled his military uniform from years ago. “Sorry we couldn’t find you,” he apologized, dark brown eyes lingering on Rythian’s face as he had feared they would.

Rythian inclined his head slightly to accept his apology, not knowing what he should say. “Zoeya worried about you,” Teep continued.

“Teep! It wasn’t just me,” Zoeya scolded him, blushing slightly, and he took a step back. “You were just as worried.”

The long silence again settled in, though it occasionally broke with gentle prodding from Zoeya or a few remarks she pulled from Teep. Rythian could not help but feel continuously uncomfortable even among those he knew were his true friends.

It was not until Zoeya excused herself for the night that Teep sat closer to Rythian and spoke more frankly.

“Who was it?” he asked simply, keeping his voice low.

Somewhat stunned by the turn in conversation, it took time for Rythian to reply. “I don’t know his name.”

“Do you know where he is?” Teep prompted.

“Possibly.” Rythian studied his friend, his motivations quickly becoming clear. Teep was interested in retribution, perhaps almost as much as Rythian himself was.

“Teep,” Rythian began, though he was still uncertain how to respond. He contemplated simply telling Teep to leave the subject alone, that he had no intention of pursuing his tormentor. That would have been a lie, so instead he replied, “I’ll let you know if I need your help.”

“Alright,” Teep nodded, finally breaking into a real smile. He clapped a hand to Rythian’s shoulder, before rising and heading for the door. “See you when you come back to the department,” he called over his shoulder as he walked out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rythian pushes himself to return to his work as a detective, but soon finds himself seeking Lalna's company again.

Rythian was glad to re-enter his flat the next morning after another night’s restless sleep. Quickly, he set about restoring his apartment, sweeping up the glass and hanging the door. Rythian was happy to have the work, finding it easier to settle back into his life, and easier to sleep that night.

He did not spend more than a few days resting in his apartment before he roused himself to return to the city police department. The walk alone was more difficult than he had imagined, but it was somehow far worse to enter the building and know each of the men and women who stared.

Rythian was hardly surprised when he was called into the office of the lead detective. He tried to recall the faces of the men who had held him, or at least descriptions, but only the visage of the man who had wielded the knife remained with him.

That face, the wide plane of his forehead and the tight small mouth stayed with him every moment, appearing whenever he closed his eyes. He described every detail he remembered of his face, his hair, and his clothes; though he knew that it was unlikely the case would even be pursued.

A hollow week passed, while Rythian uneasily tried to fit back into his old routine.  He lasted all of six days before he found himself retracing the path to Lalna’s apartment at the end of a long Friday. It was pure impulse to make the turn down the avenue, though he had long been toying with the idea of making that call. He hated that he remembered the way, though he had only taken this path once, on the morning Lalna had driven him home.

Standing at Lalna’s door, he realized vaguely that he should have called ahead. He knocked, half hoping that he would not answer. Rythian did not wish for this to become a habit, but somehow Lalna’s apartment seemed far safer than anywhere else in the city. Zoeya and Teep had appeared to resume acting as their normal selves around them, but everyone else continued to glance furtively at him, and he knew that there was surely speculation about what had happened to him among his neighbors.

Blond hair askew, Lalna opened the door, clad only in his underclothes. He grinned when he saw Rythian and immediately stood back to allow him inside. “How’ve you been?” he asked, not seeming to expect an honest answer.

Rythian ignored the greeting and instead leaned forwards to gently press his lips to Lalna’s. He was careful with the pressure, the gashes around his mouth still not quite healed. Smiling as Rythian’s mouth moved with his, Lalna allowed Rythian to push him against the wall behind the door.

Moving quickly, Lalna slid his hand down to palm at Rythian’s ass. Rythian went straight for his undershirt, hurriedly tugging the fabric up over his head. The shirt discarded, Lalna let his hands to fall to his sides, giving Rythian complete control. He let his eyes shut as Rythian’s tongue pressed between his lips, and waited as he fumbled with the buttons at the front of his underdrawers.

Giving up on the buttons after a few seconds of impatient floundering, Rythian took Lalna’s hands in his and led him into the bedroom. He paused at the side of the unmade bed to shove Lalna down, but did not yet join him.

Instead, standing on his own Rythian began to undress. He unbuttoned his suit coat, dumping it on the low bench at the foot of the bed. His fingers clumsy in his hurry, he pulled the knot of his tie loose, before racing down the row of buttons that ran down his chest.

Smirking, Lalna propped his head up on his arm. As Rythian felt his eyes settle on him, he hesitated, his trousers halfway down his thighs. He had not meant to put on a show, but Lalna seemed to be enjoying himself regardless. Somewhat self-conscious, Rythian continued. He toed off his shoes and stepped out of his trousers, letting them fall to the ground.

Seconds later Rythian paused again, tugging at his socks. “Need me to help?” Lalna grinned, watching him struggle.

“Fuck off.” Rythian’s reply was nearly lost in his smile. Grasping at the back of his undershirt, he pulled the garment free. His fingers returned to his waistband, and Lalna pushed himself upright to watch. Hastily, Rythian unbuttoned his underdrawers and pushed them down his legs.

Finally free of his clothing, Rythian stepped closer to the bed. As soon as he was within arm’s reach, Lalna grabbed at Rythian’s hip. At Lalna’s direction, Rythian climbed onto the bed, kneeling over Lalna as he lay back.

“Mm,” Lalna whimpered when Rythian first ran his fingers over his cock, fingertips sliding over thin cotton. Rythian unbuttoned the front of Lalna’s underdrawers. Easing his underdrawers down, helped by a wiggle of Lalna’s hips, Rythian finally took his cock in his hand.

Groaning softly, Lalna rolled his head back against the mattress. He tightened his grip on Rythian’s hip, more for simple contact than to try to control his motions. Rythian stroked him quickly, gripping firmly at his shaft. He worked at Lalna’s cock until he was hard and his breath came fast.

When Rythian let go, Lalna looked up at him expectantly. Licking his lips nervously, Rythian finally dared to ask the question that he had dreamed of for the better part of this week. “Will you fuck me?”

“Yeah,” Lalna answered, with more enthusiasm than Rythian had expected. “Just a second.” He put his hands to Rythian’s shoulders and pushed him onto his back. Then Lalna leaned over the side of the bed to rummage through his bedside drawers, returning with a small tin.

The tin still in his hand, Lalna lowered his mouth to Rythian’s chest. He left a trail of kisses as his lips worked their way down his sternum. Briefly Lalna strayed to nip at Rythian’s nipples, once hard enough that Rythian swore. Then he grasped at his cock, silencing any further complaint.

Stroking Rythian’s cock slowly, Lalna raised his head as he flipped the top off the tin. Curious, Rythian watched as he spread a thick coat of slick salve over his index and middle fingers. Lalna followed his gaze, seeming somewhat bemused at his attention.

“First time?” Lalna smiled, briefly letting go of Rythian’s cock to nudge his thighs apart.

“I swear, Lalna, if you make a big deal out of this, I’ll fucking leave.” Rythian did his best to sound threatening, though he was slightly out of breath.

“I didn’t say anything,” Lalna shook his head, mock-innocent. His shining fingertips brushed over Rythian’s ass, and Rythian forgot to argue. Instead, he moaned as Lalna’s index finger slid inside him, his touch warm against his sensitive flesh.

“Ah,” Rythian gasped as Lalna’s finger first entered him. The feeling was nothing like what he had expected. Instead of overwhelming discomfort and pain, Rythian felt a slick stretch, pulling at sensitive flesh that sparked at his very touch. There was still an edge of pain in the background, just at the edge of discomfort.

Rythian was able to take another finger surprisingly quickly. He groaned as Lalna began to stretch him, slowly spreading his fingers apart inside him. Slowly, he grew used the sensation, whining quietly as Lalna slowly worked him open.

“Mm,” he hummed to himself as Lalna began to withdraw. The feeling was like nothing he had ever expected. Already incredibly sensitive, Rythian could not help but feel an overwhelming pleasure as Lalna slowly slid his fingers out of him.

“Ready?” Lalna asked, pulling his fingers free. After dipping a fingertip back into the tin, he spread the salve along his shaft.

Eagerly, Rythian nodded. His hand resting on the inside of his thigh, he craned his neck to try to watch Lalna. Grasping his cock in his hand, Lalna pressed the head to Rythian’s ass and slowly and gently pushed inside his body. As Lalna filled him, Rythian let his head fall back, exhaling breathily.

The feeling was overwhelming, and soon Rythian could not help but beg Lalna to stop as his entire cock pressed inside him.

“Wait,” Rythian panted, and Lalna was obediently still as he adjusted to him. “Alright,” he sighed seconds later, and Lalna slowly began to thrust inside him. Rythian reached up, grasping at the brass bedstead.

Lalna started slowly, conscious of Rythian’s initial discomfort. He kept his pace steady, careful not to allow himself to progress too quickly. Still, as the minutes wore on, Lalna could not help but thrust more deeply into him as his pace increased. Now used to the slight edge of pain, Rythian did not complain as he slid more deeply inside him. Instead he moaned.

Bracing himself with one hand near Rythian’s shoulder, Lalna allowed his pace to quicken. Grasping at Rythian’s knee, he lifted his leg off of the mattress, spreading his legs a little wider. Rythian gazed up at him, his lips parted.

“Ah,” Rythian cried out. Fingers slowly trailing down his stomach, Rythian took his cock in his hand. He began to pump himself quickly, biting out a curse with every thrust of Lalna’s hips. “Lalna!” he finally gasped, coming across his fingers and stomach.

Groaning, Lalna came soon after, his hips slowing as he thrust inside him a few final times. Rythian barely moved, too lost in the afterglow of his own orgasm.

It took several long minutes for them to come down from their high, both panting. Slowly, Lalna rolled off of Rythian, finding a spot beside him resting gently against the pillows.

Now lying flat, Lalna looked over at Rythian. “Is this what you call being sociable?” he teased, though he held hope that Rythian might confess his intentions.

“I just wanted to see someone who didn’t feel sorry for me,” Rythian mumbled, somewhat ashamed to be so truthful to him.

“Work must be pretty bad if you consider me a friendly face,” Lalna turned his head to the side to meet his gaze.

Rythian found himself smiling in spite of himself. “Yeah,” he admitted. “It’s not even the work. It’s just the people.” With a small sigh, he trailed off.

“You staying for dinner?” Lalna asked, intertwining his legs with Rythian’s.

“Maybe,” Rythian allowed. “But I’m not staying the night.”

“Why not?” Lalna pouted. “It’s not as if you have to work in the morning.”

“Were you planning to keep me up late?” Rythian rested his hand on Lalna’s chest. He was tempted to stay, without Lalna even having to elaborate.

Lalna smirked up at him, certain he had won him over. “You’d have to stay in order to find out.”

Rythian rolled his eyes, hoping to disguise the fact that he truly was considering the proposition.

* * *

 

It was not every night that Rythian made his way to Lalna’s doorstep, or found him at his door. Some evenings he would find his way into the company of his friends. He would stop at Zoeya’s apartment or duck into Teep’s building. There he could spend at least a few hours outside of his own head.

On one such night, he watched Zoeya fret over Teep, who bore a newly black eye. Teep insisted he had received the injury in a fight he had won, something that not even Rythian was sure he should believe. Zoeya was attempting to chastise him for the violence, though Teep was pointedly ignoring her.

Arms crossed over his chest, Rythian looked on from an armchair, mildly amused by the spectacle. Ducking into the kitchen for a second, he returned with a chunk of ice wrapped in a cloth for Teep. With a slight smile, Teep nodded at him in thanks.

 

On lonelier nights, Rythian would slip away from them all to trace down cold trails, hoping to find a name for the face he could not forget. Aided by records from the police department, Rythian found people who knew the man he sought in the darker corners of the city. Directed by rumor, he finally met a woman who suggested he talk to the bartender at a small South Side speakeasy.

Rythian did not make it farther than a step inside the speakeasy’s door before he froze. Three seats from the end of the bar a man sat fortunately turned to the side. He spoke to his neighbor, his head low. Though Rythian could only see a fraction of his face, he knew without a doubt that he had found his quarry.

Heart racing, Rythian ducked back outside. His hand shook as he pressed it to the holster underneath his coat, reassuring himself. The man had not seen him, Rythian was certain of it. Biting at his scarred lip, he crossed the street. He took refuge in the shadows of the recessed doorway of an abandoned storefront and prepared himself to wait.

The night was cold enough that few people passed by, and none seemed to notice him. Still, he could not help but feel an odd twist in his gut as he stood there. A dozen scenarios played through his head. He feared that the man’s eyes would lock on him the instant he emerged from the building, and that he would again be helpless against him. He feared the man would take him, that he would beat him, cut him, kill him.

No one knew where he was. He had not told even Teep where he was headed tonight. That thought hung over him, setting his nerves on edge as he waited in the darkness.

Rythian ran his thumb along the curve of his holster, stroking it slowly as he waited. He did not take his eyes off the doorway to check the time, but he was certain that more than an hour had passed when the man finally emerged alone. Stumbling slightly on the brick sidewalk, the man started west.

Steeling himself, Rythian followed him, making sure to remain far enough away that he would not be noticed. It was too late in the night to hope to blend into the crowd, but as Rythian watched the man’s gait, he became more and more convinced that he was drunk.

After three blocks, the man turned down a side street. A ramshackle wooden building stood near the corner. The man quickly stepped inside. Rythian hung hack, finding a dark place in the alleyway. Carefully, he watched the windows, waiting to see where the first light would come on.

A minute later, a light flickered on in the third story. Rythian caught a final glimpse of the man silhouetted in the window before the curtain was pulled shut.

It took time for Rythian to finally emerge from the alleyway. He exhaled heavily, but that did not relieve the overwhelming tension in his chest. Rythian started home anyways, trying to figure out what he wanted to do with this newfound information.

Rythian returned to that street every few nights, raising his eyes to the same window. It was usually dark, but every so often he would catch a glimpse of the man. As he watched from below, a plan began to form in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early chapter because I'm going to be away tomorrow.
> 
> I'll probably release multiple chapters next week due to the fact that they're relatively short. I hope everyone's ready for what's to come.


	4. Chapter 4

“Enderborn!” Rythian looked up from his desk to see an officer that he did not recognize. He waved Rythian over to a quiet corner near the door.

“Yes?” Rythian approached him, his head turned slightly to the side.

“Your boy, Teep,” Rythian cringed at the diminutive, but the officer carried on as if he had not noticed. “-is in the hospital south of city hall. Adams found him a few hours ago.”

Stomach plummeting, Rythian cut in. “How is he? What happened?”

“Doc said he should recover, mostly, but I haven’t seen him,” the officer shrugged. “It looks like he got himself mixed up in some gang business. I wouldn’t have thought him the type.”

“He isn’t the type,” Rythian growled. The officer shrugged, though he hardly seemed apologetic.

Biting his tongue purely to save time, Rythian retreated, scooping up his coat as he left. Even as he sprinted down to Zoeya’s office near the evidence room, the thought nagged at him. Had the same been said of him only months before?

Pausing in the doorway, Rythian stuck his head inside the room. “Hello, Rythian,” Zoeya smiled up at him.

“Teep’s in the hospital.” Rythian spoke quickly, every word rushing together. “I’m going to see him now. Do you want come?”

Immediately, Zoeya was on her feet. She threw her own coat around her shoulders. “Yes.” She dashed after Rythian when he made for the exit.

Rythian yanked open the door of the department car and quickly ducked inside.

“What happened?” Zoeya asked anxiously as she pulled the door shut behind her.

“I don’t know.” Rythian shifted the car into reverse, pulling out of the lot and onto the street.

The hospital was a low two-story building, its paint a sun-faded brown. Rythian had been inside a few times before, usually to talk to the injured.

“Detective?” called the woman behind the low table that served as the front desk.

“We’re here to see Teep.”

“The doctor will want to talk to you first. He’ll be up on the second floor.” She pointed down the ward to the stairs barely visible in the dim light at the other end.

“Thank you,” Zoeya murmured, before starting down the long ward, her eyes fixed on the ground. Below their feet, cracked tile crunched.

They quickly reached the relative quiet of the stairwell, which smelled strongly of must. “He’s a veteran,” Rythian hissed. “He shouldn’t be in here.”

“I know,” Zoeya replied quietly, her tone darker than he had ever heard it.

For a few seconds, they stood awkwardly at the top of the stairs, scanning the ward for either Teep or the doctor they had been directed to find. Soon a young doctor approached him, his eyes creased from lack of sleep. “Can I help you?”

“We’re here to see Teep.”

“Right, you’re Detective Enderborn.” The doctor’s eyes skimmed over his face. He nodded to him in greeting. He looked questioningly at Zoeya next.

“I’m his partner, Detective Proasheck,” Zoeya lied with surprising confidence. “What happened?” she asked, too impatient to waste time on further pleasantries.

“His tongue was cut out.” Rythian swallowed and exchanged a quick, stunned glance with Zoeya. “And three of his ribs were fractured.”

Several beds away and to the right, Rythian spotted Teep, his bed raised to allow him to sit up. His lower lip appeared to be badly swollen.

Barely lifting his hand off the bed, Teep managed a small wave.

Quickly, the pair walked to his bedside. There was little to say, especially not with Teep drowsy from painkillers. So they awkwardly hovered over him, until Rythian excused himself to go back to work, with a promise that he would return in the evening while Zoeya elected to stay with Teep.

Minutes after five o’clock, Rythian ducked back in the hospital door. Scaling the stairs to the second floor, Rythian did his best to muster up a smile. “Hello, Teep,” he greeted him, holding the smile for a few seconds longer.

Seating himself in the chair at Teep’s bedside, Rythian looked to small wooden dresser that stood next to him. On the dresser lay a small ink sketch of a dinosaur. Rythian could not help but grin at the drawing, which was undoubtedly the work of Zoeya.

“Nice drawing,” he commented. Teep rolled his eyes, but a small smile showed at the corners of his mouth.

“Would you want to write to me?” Rythian offered, leaning forwards.

Immediately, Teep held out his hands, nodding. Rythian presented him with a pencil and the small notebook he carried in his pocket. After a few seconds, Teep held it up for Rythian to see.

“How’s Zoeya?” the paper read, the words fit onto a single line.

“She’s alright.” Rythian rubbed as his forehead, remembering argument they had had just a few minutes ago. “She didn’t want to go, but she needs to sleep if she’s going to come back tomorrow morning.”

Teep ducked his head to scribble a couple quick sentences in the notebook. “She doesn’t need to. I’m going to go home tomorrow.”

“Tell her that.”

Teep rolled his eyes again, and Rythian could not help but be glad to see some of his usual personality.

It took a few minutes for Rythian to gather the nerve to ask the question that had been lurking in the back of his mind since this morning. He held his gaze steady with Teep’s for a second before he finally dared ask, “What happened?”

“Same as what happened to you, but I think you’ve already figured that out.”

Rythian swallowed. “Tell me.”

Breathing still labored, Teep put the pencil to paper once again. Rythian rested in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he waited for him to finish. Teep covered two sheets in words, his lettering cramped as he sought to fit the whole tale into a few paragraphs. When he finished, he waved the paper to call Rythian’s attention before passing the note to him.

Brow furrowed, Rythian rested his chin on his hand as he read. Upon reaching the end of Teep’s recollection, he took a deep breath. Pushing himself out of his chair, he waved slightly to him.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”


	5. Chapter 5

Rocking forwards on his toes, Lalna stood at the unfamiliar doorway. After digging in his pocket for a moment, he retrieved his pocket watch. It was a quarter before four; surely nearly everyone in the city would be asleep. Swallowing his apprehension, he knocked.

More than minute passed before the door creaked open and a round face dotted with freckles peered out at him. “Lalna?” She seemed to have already been awake, as all of the lights were on in the room behind her.

“Hello, Zoeya,” he answered quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“What is it?” she frowned at him, trepidation rising in her voice. She knew as well as anyone that only bad news came at this time of night.

“Um,” Lalna hesitated. “Can we talk about this inside?”

“What is it?” Zoeya repeated, and just out of sight Lalna thought he saw her move to wedge her foot behind the door.

Taking a nervous step back, Lalna finally admitted why he had come. “Rythian’s been arrested.”

Squeezing her eyes shut briefly, Zoeya let out a long sigh. Turning away from him, she retreated further into her apartment, leaving the door ajar. Realizing that would probably be his only invitation to come in, Lalna slipped inside.

As his eyes adjusted to the light of her flat, Lalna spotted Zoeya standing a few feet inside her sitting room. She had her back turned to him, her arms wrapped around her torso as she pulled at a thread that had come loose from her blouse.

“Did you have anything to do with it?” Zoeya asked, her tone bitter.

“No,” Lalna replied shortly, a bit insulted.

“Then tell me what happened,” she demanded.

“He’s going to be charged with murder this morning.” Lalna winced as Zoeya whipped around to face him, her eyes wide. “I’m going to go get him out right now, but I thought I should tell you before I do.”

“What did he do?” Zoeya frowned, crossing her arms.

“He uh,” Lalna reluctantly began. “Apparently he found the man who gave him his scars.”

“Oh _no_ ,” Zoeya whispered, pressing her hand to her mouth as realization struck. “He must’ve--that must’ve been who hurt Teep.”

“Teep?” Lalna furrowed his brow. He was not familiar with the man, though Rythian had mentioned him before.

“He’s in the hospital. Last night someone-” Zoeya broke off, finding the words difficult. Meeting Lalna’s gaze, she clenched her jaw. “That man cut out his tongue.”

Lalna stepped closer. “I’m sorry,” he murmured quietly.

“It’s-” Zoeya trailed off, waving his consolation away. Then she asked, “So you’re just going to let Rythian out?”

“Well, yeah,” Lalna answered. “It turned out that the police department just wants to be able to sweep this under the rug.”

“Of course,” Zoeya sighed, leaning against the wall. They lapsed into silence for a moment, before she spoke again. “He was supposed to sit with Teep tonight.”

Lalna gave her a small sympathetic nod, not knowing what other comfort he could provide.

Edging towards the door, he paused when she again looked up at him.

“Before you go, will you tell me how you met Rythian?” she asked.

“Oh um,” Lalna fumbled with the buttons on the front of his coat. “Me and Xephos found him in an auto shop. I was able to stitch him up and then he stayed with me while he healed.”

“And the fact that he’s still seeing you has nothing to do with the mob?”

“Um,” Lalna flushed slightly. “No.”

“Oh,” Zoeya’s cheeks reddened. She paused a moment longer before finally asking, “Will you tell him something for me?”

“What is it?”

“Tell him he shouldn’t visit.” Zoeya looked away from him, blinking. “I’m--I’m going to busy caring for Teep.”


	6. Chapter 6

The scent of blood lingered with Rythian even after he was allowed to wash his hands. Turning his wrists, he could still see where blood had settled between his fingers and under his nails.

Dazed, he stared at his palms. Though only a few hours had passed since his arrest, he remembered little more than impulse and sound.

In a way, it was a relief to have been caught so quickly, as much as he had detested the humiliations of his arrest. Passing through his life with no punishment other than a tortured conscience somehow seemed just as terrifying as facing whatever fate the courts would set him.

The door to his cell opened with a grating of metal, but Rythian did not look up until the guard took hold of his arm, dragging him to his feet. He followed obediently from there, staying close to him as he led him down the hall. As they neared what Rythian knew was the exit, they passed through a heavy metal door with a nod to a short guard.

Rythian looked up the guard, puzzled. Directing him to the final door, the guard told him flatly, “You’re free to go.”

“What?” Rythian furrowed his brow, but fell silent when he saw the man who waited outside. Sighing, he followed obediently as Lalna turned and made his way out to a black sedan that

Rythian remembered well.

Seizing hold of his shoulder, Lalna forced Rythian against the rear door, before pinning him with an arm across his back. Rythian yelped as he crashed into the door, but did not struggle against him.

“Sorry,” Lalna muttered, rummaging in his pocket. He drew out pair of handcuffs and swiftly closed them around his wrists. Rythian remained still, leaning against the cold metal as Lalna fumbled to unlock the door. Grasping at his arm, Lalna opened the door and guided him inside.

Neither man spoke on the drive across the city. Every few minutes, Lalna glanced in the rear-view mirror, only to see the outline of Rythian’s slumped shoulders barely visible in the dark.

 

Pulling a quick right at a brightly-painted orange sign, Lalna parked behind the YOGS film studio. Though the studio did produce movies, each starring the rather short and stout Honeydew, the business largely served as a front for Xephos’ other productions.

Quickly stepping out of the sedan, Lalna hastily dragged Rythian out of the backseat. Stumbling into him, Rythian reluctantly followed his lead. Once inside the studio, Lalna hurried him down the hallway, past the now dark sets. Slowly scaling a flight of stairs, they paused outside a wooden door.

“Rythian,” Lalna whispered, his lips beside Rythian’s ear. Rythian turned his head away from him. Sighing quietly, Lalna bit back his words of advice and guided him through the doorway.

Xephos sat behind his desk, a stack of papers in front of him. His eyes followed the pair as they entered, watching Lalna push Rythian into the chair that stood in front of the desk and then retreat to the far side of the room.

Shuffling his papers into a neat pile, Xephos put them aside. He shifted forwards, his arms resting on his desk. “Rythian,” Xephos began, meeting his gaze. “I’m not going to bail you out again.”

“That’s fine,” Rythian answered shortly.

“Rythian,” Xephos tried again. “You can’t deal with people like this. You have to-”

“You were going to kill him!” Rythian shouted, nearly leaving his chair. “Why are you fucking lecturing me when you were going to do the same?”

There was a long silence as Xephos rose from his seat. Walking around the desk, he stood directly in front of Rythian. “Do you want to know why he wasn’t dead?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. Sensing the danger in his tone, Rythian did not reply.

“The gang that you encountered months ago was a group of men who were being paid by someone very wealthy to make trouble. That man was still alive because he was being followed."

For several minutes, Rythian was silent, contemplating the revelation. Eventually he asked, "Did you ever lose his trail?"

"What?" Xephos furrowed his brow. He was as uncomfortable with the angle of the question as he was with Rythian's confident tone.

"Do you know where he was last night?" Rythian asked directly. When Xephos did not immediately reply, he leaned forwards. “Last night they picked up Teep, and they put him through worse than what they did to me. So tell me, did you lose track of him, or did you decide that finding his employer was more important than preventing him from harming anyone else?"

He let the accusation hang in the air for a few seconds before he pressed on. "Xephos, there's no point in pretending that you're doing this for my sake. You're hunting down a competitor because that's good for business." Rythian raised his voice as he shifted forwards until he was only inches from Xephos. "I've paid back the money I owed you on my rent and then some. I don't owe you a fucking thing, so you can stop acting like I should be grateful."

Xephos’ expression was dark, his brows pulled together as he scowled at Rythian. Unable for the moment to respond more clearly to Rythian’s claim, he instead chose an insult. "Are you paying off your debt to Lalna too?" he asked, his tone bitter.

It was a low blow, and Rythian clearly knew he was being baited. "Fuck you," he bit into the words as a sardonic smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Crossing his arms, Xephos sat on the edge of his desk. “Take him home,” he sighed.

Tugging at Rythian’s arm, Lalna forced Rythian to rise. With one last glare at Xephos, Rythian left his seat, shaking off Lalna’s hands as he made for the door. His hands still shackled, he was forced to wait for Lalna to escort him through the doorway before he could stride down the empty corridor.

“Rythian!” Lalna called after him, sprinting to catch up.

“I’m done listening to you two,” Rythian snarled as he twisted to try to open the door that led outside. Instead, Lalna caught hold of his collar and dragged him into the narrow closet a few feet away. He shoved Rythian inside and slammed the door shut behind him, leaving them in near total darkness.

There was a clatter and Rythian crashed to the floor, having caught his foot on the cluster of mops that rested against the wall. Leaning against the door, Lalna waited for him to cease thrashing and swearing.

Sprawled out across a jumble of cleaning supplies, Rythian finally spoke. “Are you going to lecture me as well now? I’ve just had the head of the fucking mob lecture me about morality, why not add his head enforcer to make it that much better?”

Frowning, Lalna crossed his arms. “Christ, Rythian, you killed someone.” As his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, he thought he could see Rythian fidget, falling silent. “I got you out because I thought you’d end up on death row if I didn’t. It turned out that the police didn’t mind giving you up, so it was that much easier. But now you’ve lost your career.”

When no response came Lalna added, “I told Zoeya.”

“Shit,” Rythian winced and Lalna vaguely saw him curl in on himself.

“I don’t want to get started passing messages between you two, but she’s asked you not to visit. She says she’s going to be busy with Teep.”

There was a soft thud, and Lalna thought that Rythian might have hit his head on the floor.

“What about you?” Rythian soon whispered.

Shrugging, Lalna responded. “I’m not going try to lecture you. I just want you to stay with me for a few days, at my house,” Lalna told him, but no response came from Rythian. Carefully, Lalna bent down and reached out to where he thought Rythian lay. His outstretched fingers collided with Rythian’s chest, and after a moment of fumbling, he managed to grasp Rythian underneath his arms.

Slowly, Rythian found his feet as he was pulled upright. He followed Lalna out of the supply room and waited patiently as his handcuffs were unlocked. Trailing behind Lalna, Rythian walked out into the night air. He settled into the passenger seat of Lalna’s car and watched the city fade from sight as they drove into the countryside.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Concerned about Rythian, Lalna insists that they stay together for the next few days out in the countryside.

It was near dawn when they arrived at a long gravel drive with a two-story brick house at its end. The house stood in a broad clearing, where the trees of the surrounding forest had all been cut away. The meadow had gone wild, boasting tall grasses, a few clusters of blackberry bushes near the treeline, and even a row of sweet peas along the driveway.

For all of the days and nights he had spent at Lalna’s apartment, Rythian had never seen his house. He knew it existed; he even had a good idea where it stood, far past the outer reaches of the northwest quarter of the city. Still, he had never visited or even been invited by. It had never crossed his mind that this was strange until he passed over the threshold.

There were half a dozen excuses that he could think of, all of them reasonable, for why Lalna had never asked him here. The distance was great, the roads rough and winding, and their relationship was far too casual for such formalities. Lalna would surely recite some combination of those reasons if prompted, except for perhaps the last. So Rythian tucked the question away, leaving it hanging quietly at the back of his mind until he had reason to examine it again.

   

Rythian passed the first few sleepless, empty hours of his stay exploring the house. He counted the rooms, and found that most had begun to acquire the general clutter that seemed to follow Lalna wherever he went. A broad staircase led up to the second floor, where he found half a dozen rooms, most of which had apparently gone untouched for months. There were four bedrooms, and the largest --undoubtedly Lalna’s--was the only one to bear any sign of having been slept in anytime recently.

Lalna left him to his own devices, though he was never far. His attention had quickly turned to a large engine that dominated the dining room, its parts cascading onto the floor. When he returned downstairs, Rythian caught a glimpse of his hunched shoulders, and noted that there was already ale at his side. Rounding the corner outside the kitchen, Rythian tried the next door, but found it locked.

Immediately he glanced up, worrying that Lalna would have heard him try the knob. Stepping away from the door he waited, certain that at any moment Lalna would appear to ask him what he was doing. After a long silent minute, Rythian allowed himself to exhale, now satisfied that Lalna was not coming to check on him. Again he put his hand on the doorknob, trying once more to open it. When it did not turn, he stood quietly in front of it, wondering what was behind the door.

The air coming from the other side of the door was cool and smelled vaguely of must. Surely, it was the stairway down to the basement that he now stood outside. Rationally, Rythian knew there was likely a good reason why the door was kept locked.

If had been any other day, he would have thought nothing of that locked door. But today, he was certain that that door had far greater symbolism. The door to the basement was locked, and that meant that Lalna kept secrets from him.

That simple discovery was enough to bring back every doubt Rythian had ever had about Lalna. Their long-held agreement to never discuss their work now seemed suspect as Rythian realized he had no real idea what Lalna did for Xephos. Why had Lalna chosen not to lecture him about violence as Xephos had?

The thought ate away at his consciousness, gnawing constantly in the background of every minute. Flashes of a death he had created flickered before his eyes. Rythian structured his time by Lalna’s clock, mirroring his movements. He slept on the couch when Lalna slept. He ate when Lalna ate, but for a day they seldom spoke.

 

“I’m sorry, Lalna.” Rythian finally broke the silence. It was just before dinner, and Lalna stood in the kitchen, tending a pot on the stove.

Turning off the gas, Lalna glanced at him quizzically.

“I’m sorry,” Rythian repeated.

“For what?” Lalna prompted. For the first time Rythian found him impossible to read. He could not tell if Lalna was implying that he shouldn’t apologize, or if he was hoping for a better apology.

Flexing his long fingers, Rythian searched for the apology he thought Lalna would want to hear. He was less interested in the truth than he was in making amends. Still, he could not bring himself to lie outright..

“I’m sorry that you had to get involved. I’m sorry all of this happened.”

“I’m not angry,” Lalna shook his head slightly, seeming almost amused by the idea.

Rythian bit at his tongue, still trying to guess exactly what it was that Lalna wanted from him. If an apology was not what he was looking for, Rythian was not sure what more he could offer.

“Rythian,” Lalna pushed the pan off of the burner with a loud scrape. He leaned back against the stove, bracing himself with his hands at the edge. Rythian swallowed, waiting for the rebuke, or the accusation.

Pushing away from the stove, Lalna stepped forwards. Slowly he paced across the kitchen until he stood toe to toe with Rythian. “I wish I knew you better.” Grasping Rythian’s shirt in his hands, he kissed him.

For Rythian, there was something different about kissing a man that he did not trust. He did not pull away, but an uneasiness lurked somewhere at the bottom of his stomach. Once again, Lalna seemed like a stranger, though Rythian had now known him for months.

It felt wrong to have Lalna forgive him so easily. He wanted him to yell and scream and tell him how wrong he was. Again, Rythian found himself questioning Lalna’s actions. Why had Lalna accepted him so quickly?

Lalna held Rythian as if he was afraid he would leave. His hands gripped at Rythian’s body and pulled at his hair, holding him flush against himself. As Lalna continued, Rythian let his eyes fall shut, the nagging unease fading into the background.


	8. Chapter 8

In the weeks and months that followed his stay at Lalna’s house, Rythian did not call on him again. He spent his time building a life in the void he had created. He rented a small office a few streets away from his apartment. Private detective work took up most of his time, though as he grew closer to the underworld, he began to take jobs as a bounty hunter as well.

After lunch one Monday, he clambered up the stairs to his office. He held a new stack of files tucked under his arm, all compiled for him by Zoeya about his most recent interest: a ring of hitmen who picked their prey from the highest circles.

As he pulled the door to his office open, Rythian immediately noticed Xephos seated in front of his desk. A coat and hat that were surely his hung on the rack near the door, still slightly damp.

“What are you doing here?” Rythian tilted his head, always suspicious.

“The door wasn’t locked.”

His mouth bent into a scowl, Rythian slipped out of his own coat. He pitched the garment at the coat rack, where by luck alone a hook caught its collar. With his coat hung up, the leather holster under his left arm was clearly visible, as was the grip of his revolver.

Rythian crossed the room in a few strides to stand in front of Xephos. The man did not pull back when he stepped close enough to threaten him. His legs crossed at the ankle, Xephos merely looked up at him with a bemused smile.

“Why are you here?” Rythian repeated, raising his voice.

“If you sit down, we can talk,” Xephos offered pleasantly, though the words sounded forced.

Briefly, Rythian seemed to weigh resisting the suggestion. Finally frowning, he retreated to take a seat behind his desk. His arms crossed over his chest, Rythian leaned back in his chair and waited for Xephos to speak.

“You’ve been pretty successful,” Xephos glanced around the room. The small office was not particularly luxurious, but Rythian had managed to furnish it enough that it appeared to be owned by a modest accountant, rather than a bounty hunter.

Eyebrows raised, Rythian wordlessly waited for him to continue.

“I’ve heard you’ve gotten good at capturing assassins,” Xephos gestured to the half a dozen rings that dotted Rythian’s fingers, each a trophy taken from a defeated foe. Every ring bore the same crest, a drake coiled round a green pearl. “I’d like to offer you a job, if you’re interested of course.”

“No,” Rythian replied without even pausing to consider the offer.

“Are you sure?” Xephos attempted to reason with him. “You’d be paid far better than what you make now and-”

“No.”

“Well,” Xephos stood. “If that’s the case, I’ll have to ask you to begin paying the company tax. I can have someone send you the details of what you owe.” He took his coat and hat from the rack, his back turned to Rythian.

“Xephos,” Rythian called to him, rising from his chair. “Why should I pay you?”

Returning to the center of the room, Xephos stood only a pace away from Rythian. He went straight for the truth, not wasting any time on lies about protection or fellowship. “You’re taking business away from me,” he stated plainly. “My men and women would normally be running the jobs that you are. If you aren’t going to work for me, then you have to make up the difference.”

“And what if I don’t pay?” Rythian prompted him.

Xephos’ eyes slid over him, pausing pointedly at his scarred lips. “I don’t want to make any threats.”  Donning his hat, he stepped out the door.

Behind him, Rythian scoffed. That look had been threat enough. However dismissive he was of Xephos, he knew that his visit likely preceded a conflict he had no hope of winning.

His head full of the weighty probabilities that Xephos’ visit entailed, he found it impossible to focus on his work for the rest of the afternoon. The collection of public documents Zoeya had assembled seemed unimportant, no matter how enthusiastic she had been when she had presented it to him during her lunch.

Distracted, Rythian left his office early, and that night found himself back at Zoeya’s door, as he had dozens of times in the past year. She often directed the angle of his work, supplying him with details and wanted lists.

It had not taken long for Zoeya to let him back into her life after his arrest. She opened her door to him five weeks after he returned from Lalna’s; on the night he stopped trying to apologize to her. That night he asked, “Can you teach me how to talk with Teep?”

It had taken far longer for Zoeya to forgive him. For months, she threw herself into teaching him how to sign, though she herself was still learning alongside Teep. Gradually, Zoeya settled into her usual self, gushing about her latest discoveries and theories about the machinations of the underworld.

Teep had been different. Rythian approached him earlier than he dared to visit Zoeya, just a week after he had been sent home from the hospital. That day, Teep nearly broke Rythian’s nose.

It was months before Rythian dared to returned to Teep’s apartment, armed with a rudimentary knowledge of sign language and a promise from Zoeya that Teep had requested to see him. They barely made it through pleasantries before Teep signed, “You should have left him to me.”

Caught off-guard, Rythian stared at him for a moment. “He could have done the same to someone else if I had waited,” he raised his voice, stepping through the door and into Teep’s apartment.

Teep stood in the center of the hallway, blocking him from coming any further inside. “It was one month before they finally came for me,” he replied. “I bet it was the same with you. Don’t lie to me, you know you could have waited.”

Edging closer, Rythian stood toe to toe with Teep.“You knew where I was going though, when I left the hospital. Why didn’t you do anything then?”

Teep raised his eyebrows. “Are you saying I should have tried to stop you while I was in a hospital bed?”

“No,” Rythian finally backed down, rubbing at his temple. “I wish you had been the one to do it.” His tone was bitter, but he bit his tongue. More sincerely, he continued, “Really, if you wanted to do it, then you should have been the one.”

Frowning, Teep dropped his hands to his sides. The response was clearly not what he had wanted from Rythian. He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m sorry,” Rythian offered an apology, but Teep did not budge. Sighing, Rythian turned and made for the door.

“Wait,” Teep called behind him, the word recognizable though the ‘t’ was dropped.

Returning to Teep, Rythian watched him sign: “What was his name?”

“I don’t know,” Rythian shook his head. “I know I could look it up, I just don’t want to.”

Teep stood straight and stepped towards the kitchen, waving for Rythian to follow. He never brought up the subject again, though Rythian was certain that he still held a grudge for long afterwards.


	9. Chapter 9

The door to Xephos’ office stood ajar, a thin strip of light painting the hallway gold. Lalna squinted at it, remembering exactly how many times that Xephos had told him he was leaving early tonight without telling him why. Yet it was well past nine, and the light of his office was on.

Slipping inside the door, Lalna opened his mouth to tease Xephos. Instead, he fell silent as he caught sight of the unmistakable form of the man searching through Xephos’ desk.

“Rythian,” he breathed, and startled, Rythian spun towards him.

It felt like coming face to face with a ghost. Lalna had never been good at matching names to faces, and in the months since he had last seen Rythian his memory of his features had begun to fade. He still clung to easier landmarks, like the dark curls that sat atop his head, or the few inches Rythian had over him in height. Though Lalna could remember the color of Rythian’s eyes and all the expressions he could make with a twitch of his lips, he could no longer assemble his features into a portrait.

Now with Rythian in front of him, everything else fell into place. Rythian wore new clothes: a great black coat covered most of his body and a flimsy cotton kerchief was knotted at his neck. Rings adorned his fingers, several bearing a strange crest. Certainly, Rythian seemed slightly older, and bore a notch in his ear that Lalna had never seen before, but he had barely changed since last time they had crossed paths.

Rythian shoved his hand inside his coat, drawing a revolver that he aimed steadily at Lalna’s head. A smile pulling at his lips, Lalna slowly raised his hands and nudged the door shut with his heel. “How’ve you been?” he asked conversationally.

Rythian did not reply, but he did exhale through his nose disdainfully, rolling his eyes. Long-starved of his attention, that was more than enough to briefly sate Lalna. He remained motionless as Rythian cautiously approached him, and was obedient even as Rythian briefly lowered the weapon to reach under Lalna’s coat and relieve him of his pistol.

Carefully, Rythian backed away from him. He extended his arm behind himself to gingerly lay Lalna’s pistol on a bookshelf behind him, momentarily out of reach. The muzzle of Rythian’s weapon again pointed straight at his skull. “Why are you here?” Lalna prompted, watching Rythian worry at one of his scars with his teeth.

“Business,” Rythian replied, unhelpfully brief. By “business” he undoubtedly meant the strange hybrid of bounty hunter and private detective work that he somehow used to make enough money to pay his rent. He paced his way back to stand before Lalna, and Lalna could not help but be vaguely happy that he had remembered the fraction of an inch he had to raise his chin when they stood this close.

Again, Rythian lowered the weapon and, surprisingly, slid his hand back inside his coat to holster it. For a moment they stood still, eyes locked as each tried to guess what the other might be thinking. Lalna wondered if he was about to flee, pushing past him to make his way to the door.

Brow furrowed, Rythian scowled at him, “I knew that I’d see you somehow if I came here.”

“Did you not want to see me?” Lalna barely managed to keep his tone light as he feigned surprise.

“I thought I didn’t,” Rythian admitted. He scanned Lalna’s features, though Lalna could not guess what he might be looking for.

Dipping his head slightly, Rythian leaned in to kiss him, his lips gently pressing to Lalna’s. Shocked, it took several seconds for Lalna reciprocate, angling his head so that their lips could better fit together. Quickly Rythian pushed for more, long fingers grasping at his lapels as their tongues met.

Heat rose in Lalna’s body, tinging his cheeks rose and settling buzzing in his fingertips. His own hands found fabric and then hair to grasp and pull as they pressed closer together. Lalna hungrily reacquainted himself with Rythian’s taste and then his smell as he pulled open his coat.

Growing less and less hesitant, Rythian’s hands slid down his body, needily searching for skin. Yanking Lalna’s shirt untucked, he rested his hands on his sides and pressed his body so close to his that Lalna stumbled backwards into the door.

Dragging himself away from Rythian, he grasped his wrists. "You can't take any more jobs like this.”

"Why?" Rythian began to pull away from him, his eyes narrowed.

“Xephos is going to come down on you hard.”

“Do you think I'm afraid of him?” Rythian jerked free from Lalna’s grip.

“Rythian,” Lalna stepped back. “Would you make a deal with me?”

"What is it?" Rythian prompted him, a note of suspicion coloring his voice.

"If I agree to not take any work involving you, would you agree to not take any work involving me?"

Rythian ran the tip if his tongue along his teeth, considering the proposition. "Why?” he asked, clearly homing in on the very thing that Lalna had hoped he would not guess.

"Xephos is going to come for you if you keep this up, and I’m not going to be able to stop him," Lalna replied, giving him the easiest answer.

Silently, Rythian contemplated the offer. "Fine," he eventually answered and extended his arm to find Lalna's. With a shake of his hand, he simply said, “Agreed.”

"Agreed," Lalna echoed.

Fingers laced with Rythian’s, he turned and led him out of the studio.

They fell back into the same patterns easily. There was more competition between them now, but as many more opportunities for conflict as there were, each argument seemed to end the same way.


	10. Chapter 10

“Lalna, I have a job for you,” Xephos strode into Lalna’s kitchen unannounced.

“What?” Lalna barely looked up from the mechanism that sat on his table. He was busy with his pocketwatch, though it likely would not keep time again, not after he lost the spring underneath the stove.

“It’s Rythian.” At the name, Lalna quickly set aside the small screwdriver he had been holding and looked up. Now that he had his full attention, Xephos continued. “He still hasn’t paid up and others are starting to notice. A few have asked why they should bother paying our tax if nothing happens if they don’t.”

“Same as always then,” Lalna shrugged.

“Lalna, he can’t keep doing this without consequences.”

Narrowing his eyes at his boss, Lalna crossed his arms. “Even if I do shake him up, he’s not going to pay.”

“I could ask someone else to take the job,” Xephos offered. That was clearly a threat.

“No,” Lalna immediately replied. He sighed and reached up to brush some of the hair out of his eyes. “No, I’ll do it.”

Lalna knew exactly what was expected of him. If his mark had been anyone other than Rythian, he would simply catch him unawares, beat him, and throw in a few threats. Anyone who knew who he was would be terrified. Anyone other than Rythian.

It was not the knowledge that Rythian would be difficult to subdue that gave him pause, nor his old agreement with him. It was far simpler than that; he did not want to hurt him. Lalna bit into his tongue as he reminded himself that Xephos would send someone else, someone capable of far greater harm, if he backed out now.

For the first time in years of this dark work, Lalna felt ill. As certain as he was that the plan forming in his mind would fulfill Xephos’ directions, he knew Rythian would never speak to him again.

  


If there was ever any time that Rythian was certain to let his guard  down, it would be at the party that Friday night. Knowing this, Lalna arrived late and slid through the knots of people that filled the house, hoping that no one would stop him to try to chat.

Reaching the sitting room, Lalna spotted Rythian at the center of the room. Rythian stood at Zoeya’s side, mostly watching with interest as she spoke.

Turning from the conversation, Rythian glanced behind him. He smiled when his eyes found Lalna, and quickly slipped away from the tangle of people to join him. “I didn’t know you were going to be here,” Rythian said as he joined him in the shadowy hallway.  

“I thought I was going to be working tonight,” Lalna shrugged. Rythian leaned against the wall, clumsily brushing against Lalna’s shoulder as he settled into place. He was clearly already well on his way to being drunk.

“Haven’t seen you for a while,” Lalna glanced at him, not accusing, but questioning.

“Work,” Rythian grumbled. “Xephos turned up again a few days ago.”

“What did he want?” Lalna turned towards him, pretending he did not already know.

“He didn’t tell you?” Rythian glanced at him, his brow furrowed.

“No,” Lalna shook his head. For a moment, he worried that Rythian would not believe him, before quickly realizing that Rythian was too far gone to notice his how unconvincing his act was.

“He still thinks I’m going to give him protection money.” Glancing at Lalna, he continued. “You know, I haven’t paid in all the time since I started doing business here.”

“I’m not surprised,” Lalna nodded slightly. He knew well the Rythian and Xephos did not see eye to eye on most subjects.

“I don’t think he was particularly happy with my reply,” Rythian confessed, tipping his head back against the wall with a solid thunk. God, he was drunk. His every movement seemed to be directed by an unseen, uncontrollable momentum.

“Doesn’t matter,” Rythian shrugged. “He did fuck all last time we argued about this.” He rubbed his thumb along Lalna’s shoulder, shifting closer to him.

At that moment, Lalna could not help but wish he had a drink. Pulling away from Rythian, he excused himself. “I’ll be right back,” he promised.

Slipping into the kitchen, Lalna poured a few inches of the first alcohol he could find into two of the cleanest glasses. After pouring whatever mixer he could find into each glass, he stepped back out into the hallway. He knew quite well that Rythian had no real preference as long as it was strong.

Returning to Rythian, Lalna passed him a glass. In a way, he was glad that Rythian did not even question its contents. Instead, Rythian quickly swallowed a mouthful.

Lalna was glad for his drink. Its warmth slid through him, leaving his lips and tongue slightly numb. It helped, just a little, to loosen the anxiety coiling in his chest.  Easily, he felt the urge to drink more, to rid himself of all of his fears. He wanted nothing more than to escape, to find a place with him and Rythian alone, without the threat of violence.

Rythian took a quick gulp from the glass. He already seemed unsteady, but as Lalna watched, he grew increasingly uncoordinated. He seemed to be all impulse and motion, with little thought to match all of the moves he made.

Barely a minute passed before Rythian had downed the glass. Lalna would have been impressed, if this was not the norm.

“I’ve been waiting to see you.” Rythian murmured.

“Really?” Lalna raised his eyebrows skeptically. It was rare that Rythian ever expressed any desire to see him, beyond a general interest in sex.

Rythian nodded. There and then, despite the half a dozen people who could see them, Rythian put his hands to Lalna’s ass. In fact, he pressed his whole body against him, pinning him to the wall.

Well aware of the people who could see them, Lalna grasped Rythian’s hands in warning.

Rythian barely seemed to notice or even care. He leaned close, so close that Lalna was certain he was about to kiss him. Instead of making contact, he simply whispered, “Let’s go outside.”

Twining his fingers with Lalna’s, Rythian led him out the front door. Following Rythian’s lead, Lalna ducked out into the chilled air and around the side the house. As soon as they were out of sight of the door, Rythian shoved him against the siding and held him by his shoulders.

Alcohol strong on his breath, Rythian leaned in. Nose to nose, he grinned before diving in to kiss Lalna. His kisses were sloppy in his drunkenness, with too much tongue. In his mouth, Lalna could taste the sting of alcohol, nipping at his tongue with every touch. Rythian’s hands were wild, grasping at every inch of Lalna that he could find.

Lalna could not help but think that he was not drunk enough for this. He wished that this night could be just like any other, where he was able to drink until his arms only felt loosely connected to his body. He wished that he could drink to the point where he would not care about the people nearby. He wished for the drunkenness where his very face felt numb, and his hands felt more a part of Rythian than of himself.

For once, Lalna found little else outside his world other than worry. The feeling was unfamiliar, contrasting with his usual carelessness. But tonight he worried about his plan, about Rythian, about Xephos. He had hoped all night that Rythian would somehow catch hint of the danger, that he would flee at the sight of him. Instead, here he was, plastered against him, drunk nearly beyond comprehension.

Utterly oblivious to Lalna’s conflict, Rythian pressed his lips to Lalna’s throat. As uncomfortably sober as he felt, Lalna felt his already weak discipline begin to tear. He could go through with this, allowing Rythian and his goddamned mouth to derail his plan. At that moment, Lalna was certain he had never faced a more tempting fate in his life.

“I want to get you off,” Rythian slurred, his mouth near Lalna’s ear. Every time his lips touched Lalna’s skin, Lalna was certain that he could nearly feel the soft numbness of the alcohol on his skin.

Lalna had no self-control. He wished that he did as he felt the alcohol warm his throat and then his chest. Lalna felt vaguely more comfortable, more relaxed as the alcohol settled into his stomach. He could just let Rythian do as he wished, and as Lalna wished, out here in the open. It would be fine.

“I’m going to suck you off,” Rythian murmured, finding the top of Lalna’s trousers. Lalna shut his eyes; he could think of nothing more in the world that he wanted right now.

“Will you let me?” Rythian asked. His long fingers pulled Lalna’s shirt untucked, and then ran tantalizingly along his lower stomach. Slowly his fingers trekked over his bare skin, slipping over his light hair and pausing just above more sensitive flesh.

Lalna did not reply, and Rythian did not yet reach for his fly. Instead they paused, together, each waiting for a sign from the other. But Rythian did not hesitate for long, too impatient to wait for an answer. Instead he temptingly ran a digit over his length through the cloth that separated them.

He found Lalna’s belt buckle and briefly toyed with it, fingers running over the warm metal. His right hand dipped lower, pressing against his fly. Lalna groaned, and barely restrained himself from thrusting against his hand.

After a minute’s struggle, Rythian momentarily abandoned his attempt to undo the buttons at the top of Lalna’s trousers. He pushed up Lalna’s shirt and blazer, baring his stomach.

Falling to his knees, Rythian pressed his lips a few inches below Lalna’s belly button. His hands still cupped Lalna’s cock through the fabric as he again reached for the buttons. His hot mouth lingered low on Lalna’s stomach, and he kissed a long line down, mouth ranging slowly lower and lower as he clumsily slid the first button undone.

“Let’s go,” Lalna caught Rythian’s hands and pulled them up to his chest. “Alright?” he prompted when Rythian hesitated, clearly disappointed by the interruption. Lalna could not help but wonder at what could have happened if he had allowed him continue, even as he pushed him away.

“Right,” Rythian assented, and allowed Lalna to guide him out to the spot along the road where he had parked. As he tried to grasp the door handle, his nails scraped dully against the chrome. He tried again, fumbling with the mechanism for a few seconds before Lalna opened it for him.

Gratefully, Rythian slid inside and rested his head on the back of the seat. When Lalna joined him inside, he shifted closer to him and settled against his shoulder. His breath was warm against Lalna’s neck, and soon he pressed his lips to his throat.

Leaning heavily against Lalna, Rythian muttered something under his breath.

“What?” Lalna asked, concerned.

“You’d better make this up to me,” Rythian mumbled, now only slightly more intelligible. Biting his tongue, Lalna did not reply, but it did not matter because soon Rythian fell asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

A searingly bright light shone above Rythian when he woke. Instinctively he screwed his eyes shut, turning from the glare. A pair of hands covered in thick gloves rested on either side of his head, forcing him towards the light. Gently, his right eye was pried open, and again the light poured in.

With a garbled sound of protest, Rythian twisted away from the hands that held him, and to his relief he was released. Above him, the harsh light that seeped through his eyelids dimmed and after a few seconds, he cracked his eyes open. It took longer than it should have for his eyes to adjust to the new darkness, and make out a blurry figure dressed in white, pale face surrounded by a mop of blond hair.

“Lal-,” the name came out wrong, Rythian’s tongue too thick to make out both syllables.

“Lalna,” he tried again, more slowly. Rythian lifted his head up off the back of the chair in which he was reclining. “What-” he began, before collapsing back, his head spinning.

Lalna rushed forwards, to press his fingers against Rythian’s cheek as he inspected him with something that might have been concern. “You’re going to have to sleep that off,” was the only conclusion that he made.

“You fucking drugged me,” Rythian slurred, the words melding into one long string of sound. Though he wanted to protest further, he could no longer tell if Lalna stood beside him. Rather than look for him, Rythian found it far easier to slip into a drugged slumber.

* * *

 

Downstairs, Lalna heard a clatter. In the last four hours, he had frequently gone into the basement to check on his captive, finding him still unconscious each time. Now it sounded as if Rythian was finally awake. Grabbing his gloves and lab coat from the nearby chair, Lalna hastily pulled them on. After rummaging in his pockets, he retrieved a small key to unlock the basement door. Dread sitting heavy in his stomach, he crept down the stairs as silently as possible.

Lalna paused in the darkness halfway down the staircase, watching Rythian struggle against the restraints that pinned him to a low dental chair. Rythian tried to twist free, wrenching ferociously at the leather, but the material had little give. Underneath him the chair creaked and rocked slightly on its heavy base, but remained stable.

Taking a steadying breath, Lalna buttoned his long lab coat all the way up to his neck. He slid a pair of welding glasses over his eyes, half hoping they would help hide his expression. Then he continued down the stairs and into the unfinished basement.

As soon as Lalna stepped into the light, Rythian’s eyes fixed on him. The bright lamp above him illuminated his features, washing the color out of his face, and throwing long shadows behind him. His expression was nothing short of hateful, his mouth twisted and his jaw clenched. As much as he fought against his restraints, he was clearly still weak.

“What do you want?” Rythian asked, barely managing to keep his voice flat.

“I took a job involving you,” Lalna admitted. He walked around behind Rythian and pressed at the pedal to raise the back of the chair, forcing him to sit upright.

Rythian shifted as far forwards as he was able, his mouth settling into a dour line, “What exactly was the price that made you forget about our truce?”

“I’m not getting paid,” Lalna returned. “Xephos asked me to do this.”

With a sigh, Rythian settled against the back of the chair. “You can tell him I’m never going to pay his tax.”

“I’m not going to pass messages for you,” Lalna stepped away and momentarily stooped to pick up the full length mirror that lay on the floor. He adjusted the angle, taking care to make certain Rythian could see himself in it.

Lips pressed together, Rythian stared at his reflection. “I never told you about the mirror,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving the surface.

“I saw it when Xephos and I first found you,” Lalna replied. Standing at Rythian’s side, he peered into the mirror, before facing him.

Rythian made to speak, a clever comment dragging his mouth into a sneer. Without hesitation, Lalna drew back his hand and struck him across the face. Shocked, Rythian stared up at Lalna, the red mark rising on his cheek.

“Quiet,” Lalna commanded. When he cupped Rythian’s chin, his eyes fixed on him with an expression Lalna had never before seen him wear. Lalna could not tell whether it was obedience or silent rage that kept Rythian quiet.

Lalna put his gloved fingers to the scars that dented Rythian’s lips, not to caress them but to probe and examine. Slowly, he ran his fingertip down a narrow crevice that divided Rythian’s mouth, his fingers skipping from his top lip to the bottom.

Rythian turned his head from him, but Lalna seized him, fingers digging into his jaw. His eyes locked with Rythian’s, Lalna leaned in so close that their noses nearly touched. Rythian’s pupils were large and his jaw clenched. Every muscle in his body stood in tense lines, stretched so tight that he nearly shook.

Again putting his fingers to Rythian’s lips, Lalna slipped his thumb inside Rythian’s mouth. Pinching his upper lip between his thumb and forefinger, he stretched the scarred flesh. He began his long-planned speech with the simple question: “Do you know what Xephos wants me to do to you?” Lalna held Rythian’s gaze for a long moment, before reaching to the small cart near his side. He retrieved a scalpel, which flashed as he raised it.

“Look in the mirror,” Lalna directed him calmly and waited until their eyes met in the mirror. He still held Rythian’s lip between his fingers, the flesh taut. “Do you know what he wants me to do?” he repeated, and paused as if waiting for an answer. Rythian did not seem to dare to speak or even move, so Lalna continued.

“He wants me to make an example of you.”

With a burst of energy, Rythian tried to shake free. Lalna pressed the heel of his hand into his throat and refused to budge. Only when Rythian stopped struggling against him did he lessen the pressure. Slowly, Rythian’s eyes focused on him, though it seemed difficult for him to do so. “Let go,” he spoke urgently, true panic filtering into his voice.

Everything about his voice seemed wrong. The tone was something Lalna had never heard before, a hoarse strain in his throat stretching the sound. Even his eyes seemed to slide right through him, not seeing the glasses or his face, but another man entirely.

“Let go,” Rythian repeated, his voice breaking. He sucked in a quick gasp of air, breath coming faster than it should have.

Cynicism made Lalna wonder briefly if this was merely a ploy, but he knew immediately that it was not. He could not bring himself to push Rythian further, so he released his grip on Rythian and watched as he leaned forwards, chin nearly resting on his chest. Swallowing, Lalna began to unbuckle the bands that bound him, well aware he should not be backing down so quickly.

When Rythian was free, Lalna rested his hand gently on his shoulder. He spoke his name, but no response came. Rythian’s breathing became shaky as he curled in on himself, hiding his face.

Uncertain what to do or say, Lalna retreated. Bending down, he sat at the bottom of the stairs, gripping tightly at the step behind him.

It took minutes for Rythian to stand, unfolding himself from the chair. He strode across the room, up to the stairs where Lalna now sat and seized a handful of his lab coat. He tore open the coat, sending several buttons clattering to the floor. Reaching inside, he dragged Lalna’s keys out of his pocket.

Lalna did not follow Rythian as he made his way up the stairs, leaning on the railing. Within a few minutes, he heard his car start outside. Only when Rythian pulled away did Lalna dare ascend the steps, heading straight for his liquor cabinet.

* * *

 

Distantly, Lalna heard the door slam. It echoed in his skull, the sound muffled in his sleep-fogged brain. He stirred, wondering vaguely if he should rise.

“Lalna!” a voice sounded from somewhere near the kitchen. Eyes still shut, Lalna raised his hand to his forehead, trying to soothe the ache.

“Lalna?” the voice repeated, so incredibly familiar, especially in that tone. Lalna cracked his eyes open in time to see Xephos stalk into his sitting room.

“Your door was open,” Xephos told him, not bothering to sit down.

“You could have knocked,” Lalna muttered. With great effort, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, propped up against the arm of the couch. The pain in his head was sharp and he kept still for a moment, waiting for it to dull. As it subsided, he finally dared to look up at Xephos.

“How did things go with Rythian?” Xephos asked, not seeming to care about the state Lalna was in. The question was loaded, though Lalna could not tell where this was leading.

“About as expected,” Lalna replied as neutrally as possible. Cautiously, he rose from the couch and started for the kitchen.

Xephos followed close behind him. “Are you lying to me?” he asked.

“Why do you think I’m lying?” Lalna refused to answer the question outright. He poured himself a glass of water from the tap.

“I’ve seen him today.”

“Xephos-” Lalna tried to cut in, but Xephos continued as if there had been no interruption.

“He left this on my desk,” Xephos handed over a small square of paper. Written in a single line across the middle were the words: “Keep him away from me.” Lalna let the paper flutter onto the counter.

“I also had a talk with Sjin.” At this, Lalna rolled his eyes, but Xephos ignored him. “He was at the same party as you last night. He saw you two snogging around the side of the house.”

“Go ahead and tell me what you think happened then.” Lalna pushed a pile of notebooks off of a chair and sat at the kitchen table, his glass of water in front of him.

“Well, I have a choice between two things here,” Xephos began, in a voice that almost seemed reasonable rather than accusing. “I can either believe that you did what I told you to or that you slept with him instead and then got into a fight. Knowing you, I think it’s obvious which one is more believable.”

“I didn’t sleep with him,” Lalna stated plainly, annoyed by the slight. “The reason he gave you that letter is that he’s upset.”

“Why does it matter if you’ve managed to piss him off? What did you do to him anyways?”

Not particularly subtly, Lalna dodged the question. “Rythian isn’t going to pay.”

Xephos crossed his arms over his chest. “Is he going to back off?”

Lalna sighed. “No.”

“If you can’t make any progress with him, then I’ll just send someone who can actually get the job done.” Xephos shrugged, though he watched Lalna’s face carefully for his reaction.

“Don’t send anyone else after him.” Lalna finally raised his voice.

Xephos blinked at him, smelling insubordination on his breath. “And what if I do? What are you going to do?”

Lalna bit his tongue, momentarily weighing outright defiance. In his desperation, he proposed, “Take his fee out of my cut of our profits.” He was certain that Xephos would not accept, having shot down the idea once before.

Thinning his lips, Xephos eventually gave him a simple reply. “Alright.” He stepped backwards, before looking back at Lalna as if he had suddenly remembered something. “Did he take your car?”

Lalna nodded cautiously, still surprised that Xephos had taken the deal.

“I’ll help you find it.”


	12. Chapter 12

Leaning against the bar, Lalna slowly allowed his gaze to wander around the edges of the low room the speakeasy occupied. Though he was not here on business, he found it difficult to relax after all the action he had seen today.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a familiar figure. Rythian had tucked himself into a chair in a dark corner of the bar, his hat balanced on his knee. Furtively, he glanced around, as if suspicious that his target might have brought company. A full glass stood near his right hand.

Lalna mirrored his movements, scanning the crowd that cluttered the speakeasy. He wondered who Rythian could be pursuing, but could see on one of note in the bar. Stranger still, Rythian was usually adept at avoiding him. Lalna could not help but wonder if he himself was the intended target.

To Lalna’s left, the curtains parted, catching even Rythian’s attention. Rythian stared at the woman on the stage for a few seconds, before ducking his head. He looked down his untouched drink, his thumb gliding around the rim.

Lalna ducked around the end of the bar and pushed the back door open. Behind him, he heard a chair scrape across the floor as Rythian hurriedly rose to follow him.

“You’re missing the show,” Lalna shoved his hands into his coat pockets, walking slowly enough that Rythian could easily catch up. He could see a new sedan parked at the end of the alleyway.

Glancing at Rythian, he noticed that his hand had disappeared inside his coat. “You don’t need to get that out,” he assured him, raising his hands in surrender.

“Get in,” Rythian growled, nodding at the sedan.

“Nice car,” Lalna complimented him as he pulled the passenger door open. The vehicle was rather plain, a basic model, but it was interesting that Rythian had been able to afford even this much. Without further question, Lalna climbed in the sedan. When Rythian pulled away, he paid little attention to the route that he took.

Lalna could not pretend that he did not know what this was about. Regardless of whatever excuse Rythian had found, this encounter was undoubtedly spurred by the last time they had been alone together. Lalna could not help but find himself mulling over that last encounter, dissecting every detail.

He only raised his head when Rythian parked the sedan halfway down a dirt road. He looked out the window to see shadowy lines of apple trees stretching out in front of them. “Out,” Rythian commanded, throwing his own door open. Immediately Lalna obeyed, and stood at the side of the car as Rythian approached him, wondering exactly what Rythian was going to do with him.

His preoccupation instantly dissolved when Rythian slammed his fist into his jaw. Reeling backwards, Lalna struck his head on the door but did not yet lose his footing. As he staggered, his vision briefly blurred, Rythian seized him by his shoulders and dragged him away from the vehicle.

Still holding Lalna by his shoulder, Rythian forced him to reel around so he could strike him again. As soon as he let go of Lalna, he fell, tumbling onto the damp earth. Still recovering from the first blow, he was unable to avoid the kick to his ribs that followed. He curled in on himself, doing his best to shield his stomach as Rythian again aimed his boot for chest.

Dropping to his knees, Rythian hastily flipped him onto his back. He twisted Lalna’s arms and pinned them against his chest. Then he buried his fist in Lalna’s stomach once and then twice. Lalna yelped at each blow, his eyes screwed shut. Again Rythian struck him, and again Lalna’s whole body lurched at the force of the blow.

Chest heaving, Rythian stood. Distantly, Lalna heard him step away, his footsteps crunching through fallen leaves. Lalna turned his head to the side, resting his cheek on the cold ground. He dared move no further, not when the pain was only just beginning to spread across his body. For now, he found it best to lay still.

The sound of footsteps near him alerted him to Rythian’s return. Reluctantly, Lalna cracked open his eyes, finding Rythian’s long shadow draped over his chest. He smiled up at him, through the heat of blood that filled his mouth. He knew that smile was all that was needed to push Rythian’s buttons.

Stooping, Rythian twisted his fingers through Lalna’s hair and pulled. He yanked him up onto his knees, where the headlights illuminated his face. As Rythian tugged at his hair, Lalna’s strained smile warped into a grimace. Blood trickled down his face and spilled from his mouth. Lalna met Rythian’s gaze with his teeth gritted.

Rythian shoved him away and stalked over to the nearest apple tree. Lalna swayed in place, finding it more difficult than it should have been to remain upright.

Refusing to face him, Rythian kicked at the dirt. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he asked quietly. When Lalna did not reply, Rythian turned back to him.

Kneeling before Lalna, Rythian put his hand to his cheek. “Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “You’re a fucking mess.” Lalna grinned, and briefly Rythian thought he could see what lay behind it. Rythian’s stomach twisted; Lalna thought he deserved this.

“Why did you take a job that involved me?” His voice was softer now. Rythian could not help but be afraid that Lalna might have a good answer.

“Xephos gave it to me,” came the same reply that he had heard before, but he refused to take it.

“You don’t fucking pay any attention to him normally, so why take that one?”

Lalna looked away from him, tongue gingerly prodding along his teeth to check that they remained in place. “He threatened to send someone else if I refused to go,” he answered. Rythian leaned back on his heels, his chin pulled against his chest. “I thought I had to make it convincing, so I did my best to scare the shit out of you.”

“If that’s true, then why hasn’t he come for me again?” Rythian demanded, though the answer to that question had already occurred to him. “Please don’t say you’re paying him off.”

“He agreed to let me pay your protection money,” Lalna confessed. “He’s been taking it out of my pay for a month now.”

“I never asked you to fucking protect me,” Rythian hissed, again turning from him.

“You’ve done the same for me,” Lalna reminded him, silencing that particular line of argument. Rythian knew exactly what he referred to: the night he had carried Lalna out of Ridgedog’s mansion. They had traded favors long before that, endeavoring to help the other as often as they had plotted against them.

For once, Rythian easily dropped the subject. “Let’s just get inside,” he sighed. “Here,” Rythian offered his arm to Lalna. Leaning heavily against him, Lalna slowly rose. Now that he was on his feet, he could see an old cottage at the edge of the orchard.

Unlocking the door, Rythian guided him inside and in the darkness found him a chair. Gratefully, Lalna sat down, leaned back and for the first time raised his hand to gingerly prod at his nose. A shocking spurt of pain traveled through the abused cartilage, and he immediately withdrew his hand.

There was a spark and flame as Rythian lit a small oil lamp. Leaving the lamp on the square table in front of him, he ducked back outside, leaving Lalna to take in his surroundings. From the dim light the lamp provided, Lalna could see that he sat in a sparsely furnished kitchen. An ancient wood stove sat in the corner, and a line of cabinets ran across the opposite wall. The ceiling was low, so low that when Rythian returned, Lalna could see that he was only a few inches shy of scraping his head against the rafters.

Rythian set a basin of water on the table and pulled another chair around to face him. Sighing deeply, he surveyed the injuries he had given Lalna. He focused on the blood that seeped in trails over Lalna’s lower lip “You didn’t lose a tooth did you?”

“Split my lip,” Lalna mumbled. Rythian handed him a thick rag which Lalna pressed to his mouth and nose.

“Who hired you for this job?” Lalna asked, his words slightly muffled by the fabric.

Refusing to meet his eyes, Rythian muttered, “Ridge.”

“I knew it,” Lalna huffed out a little laugh, but quickly stopped when the movement made his chest ache.

“Lalna?” Rythian shifted forwards, his hands hovering uncertainly in the air. Lalna waved him back. Rythian swore, before biting at his lip. “I know I shouldn’t have taken it, I just,” he frowned, realizing how awful his justification was. “I wanted to hurt you after what you did to me.”

Lifting the rag from his mouth, Lalna whispered simply, “I’m sorry.” He was silent for a moment, wiping the drying blood from his jaw. “I should have found a way around it, or just told you what was going on.”

“I’m sorry for all of this.” Taking the rag from Lalna, Rythian dipped it in the basin of water. Cupping Lalna’s cheek in his hand, he carefully put the rag to his chin and began to wipe away the blood. Lalna flinched at his first touch--the water was ice cold--but he did not pull away.

Rythian was surprisingly gentle, his touch light as he skirted the cut in Lalna’s lip and the swelling along his jaw. Lalna was still for the moment, exhaustion beginning to filter into his body. Placing his forearms on the table, he leaned forwards and shut his eyes.

“Here,” Lalna looked up to see Rythian offering the drenched cloth to him. He took the cold fabric and pressed it to the rising lump on his jaw, glad for the numbing cold.

“Do you want to go lay down?” Rythian asked as he stood and offered his arm to Lalna.

“Alright,” Lalna nodded slowly, and reluctantly rose. As he found his feet, the dulled pain flared back to life. Gingerly, he followed along as Rythian guided him into the bedroom down the hall.

The room was tiny, just barely large enough to house a bed and a bureau. Just like the kitchen, it was lit by a small oil lamp.

Cautiously, Lalna laid down across the bed. Rythian watched from a few feet away as he tried to find a position that did not make the pain in his body worse. When he finally was still, Rythian turned, making to leave the room.

“Come here,” Lalna held out his arms to Rythian. For a second Rythian hesitated, but soon he stepped close enough for Lalna to take hold of him. Slowly, he allowed himself to be pulled in, climbing atop the bed to sit beside him.

The bed was too small for the both of them to rest comfortably. Lalna pressed himself flush against Rythian’s side while Rythian propped himself up against the headboard. They spent an awkward few minutes sorting out the best place for their arms and legs and hands before settling in.

As silence fell, Lalna began to doze. While he remained still, the aches in his body lessened to something far more manageable.  

Rythian fished in his pocket, eventually retrieving the half a dozen rings that normally adorned his fingers. Quietly, he slid them on, careful not to jostle Lalna from his place resting against his side. Lalna stirred as he moved, turning his head towards Rythian’s chest.

“You awake?” Rythian whispered.

“Yeah.” Lalna mumbled.

“Will you stay awake, just for a bit?” Rythian asked, an unmistakable note of concern coloring his tone.

“Are you worried about me?” Lalna tilted his head up so that he could watch Rythian’s expression. Predictably, Rythian pressed his lips into a line, flustered. Lalna smiled at him, letting his teeth show.

“Yes,” Rythian admitted, though he knew Lalna had only been teasing him. He brushed Lalna’s bangs off his forehead and kissed his brow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> This is a finished work which I'm intending to release chapter by chapter on a weekly basis. Two chapters will be released today because the prologue is not really new content.


End file.
